Chaos is Life
by LunaticKing
Summary: Glasgow scarred terrorist and sociopath Joker escapes from Arkham with the help of his female doctor and is back at it again terrorizing Gotham's citizens to call Batman out of the shadows.
1. Chapter 1

The sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet and his breath rushing in his ears as he sprinted across the yard at Arkham was like a loud mantra. Searchlights sweeping the property in big whooshing strokes as the alarm blared in a droning rise and fall. Joker didn't slow down, though, he had his eyes on the fence that Johnny told him would be ready for him. For the past week, Joker had his eyes on that fence, making sure it was the right one. Counting the corners and memorizing the area around it for his great escape. A magic act of vanishing. It was all a convenient mishap that the searchlights never swept across where he was running. And maybe Johnny was just that smart...maybe he knew the reach and layout of the searchlights and that they couldn't go this far. Still, though, as he ran his heart pumped violently with adrenaline. He sincerely hoped that they were there on time. And as he neared the fence he angled his shoulder at it and braced for an impact. Not slowing down at all he tucked his head and dove into the fence. The metal gave away and then closed up again with a muffled clinking noise, but not without taking a strip of the gray Arkham jumpsuit with it and cutting his shoulder. The edge of the island cut off abruptly in this spot and he had been warned about it, but having passed through the cut fence at the speed he did the narrow edge was not enough time to stop himself and he went down the narrow bank head over heels twice before righting himself and sliding down.

"I told you to brace for a fall," Johnny said from the shore, tossing his cigarette to the ground.

"That was just physics," Joker growled in reply, not stopping. Instead, he waded into the cold Atlantic water and headed for the small motorboat.

"Never seen such a graceful physics lesson before, boss." Johnny joked though he kept his laugh inside. With an agitated glare, Joker clenched his jaw and halfway turned around, then climbed into the boat. There was one man on the boat, wearing a winter face mask to shield against the biting November wind.

"Who's this?" Joker asked, shedding the gray Arkham jumpsuit and pulling on a pair of black pants and then a solid blue button up over his undershirt.

"The guy with a boat," Johnny replied, handing Joker his dark purple coat.

"The guy with a boat," Joker echoed with a dark tone to his voice as he put his coat on and checked his pockets. Happy to find his knives in his pockets again he picked one and flicked it open. "The guy with the boat..." He repeated, stepping up to him. "I have a new job for you, boatman." He growled, ripping off the fabric mask and yanking his hair back.

"No, p-please! I was just trying to help!" The man stammered, eyes wide with fear. "I'm...I'm a huge fan...please, Joker!"

"You should have known..." Joker began, resting his face against the side of his fan's head as he stroked the blade across the other side of his face. "...that when you start a job with the Joker you get promoted quickly." He held out the Arkham jumpsuit. "Put this on." He demanded, "PUT IT ON!" He growled with more conviction when the man didn't take the clothing. Then, from the inner breast pocket, Joker took out his pack of clove-scented cigarettes and put one in his mouth. And, almost like a trained monkey, Johnny struck a match and held it to the cigarette. Joker smoked a few hits of his cigarette before handing it off for Johnny to hold. "What's your name."

"What?" The boatman asked, shivering in the cold wet jumpsuit.

"Your name, what is it?" Joker asked, his whole demeanor seeming to be friendly and conversational.

"G-Gre-eg." The boatman answered in a shiver, eyeing the knife that Joker pulled from his pocket again.

"Well, Greg...it was nice meeting you," Joker said, tonguing the scars on the inside of his cheek as he stepped up. "I don't meet many fans." He nodded in contrast to the shaking head of Greg. "You should consider it an honor, Greg..." His voice was like gravel, eyes dead as he stabbed Greg in the stomach. "Wearing my jumpsuit, my number..." He continued, the wet squelching of the Joker's knife plummeting into Greg sounded off a few more times before Joker dropped him over the boat and into the cold Atlantic water. The dead dummy hit with a heavy thunk and caused a large splash. "Well," Joker chimed, wiping his hair out of his face and tonguing the scar on the inside of his bottom lip before taking his cigarette back. "That was fun." He took a seat at the wheel and shifted gears before throttling away from the island and towards the China Docks. It felt weird, being without his warpaint, so after a few short minutes Joker leaned down and picked up the fabric winter face mask and put it on. Speeding up the boat he couldn't wait to get to town, knowing that Batman would not be fooled for long by the decoy body he had just left. And he was counting on that.

Ever since Joker had been taken to Arkham for his detainment and treatment he couldn't stop thinking about Batman...and how they both seemed to complete each other. The way he had beaten him in the MCU like he had never been able to beat anybody else like that before...the way the brooding Bat's eyes...so deep and blue...had studied Joker's in puzzled awe. In the sleepless nights Joker spent in his secure room, he let dozens of theories roll around, and he had settled on one. Batman, just like himself, had a bad day and it changed him. What that bad day had been he might never know...but they were the same. Two sides of the same card, sure...but they belonged in the same deck. Joker wanted to figure Batman out probably as much as the Batman wanted to figure him out. And Joker knew that he couldn't strategize and execute any plans inside the walls of Arkham. Especially with their less than human treatments they were so fond of in there. Not to mention the cocktail of substances they were injecting him with twice a month. He knew there would be withdrawals and he wasn't looking forward to it at all.

Finding the black SUV parked in the lot at the docks and coughing up fumes as it idled only cemented the fact that Joker had successfully escaped from two places now. One place he swore he would never talk about ever again and the other fell much lower on the impressive scale compared to the first. Settling into the back seat after adjusting his dark purple overcoat he licked his scars and growled out where the driver should take them.

"The uh...place on Apolo and Market street," before leaning back and watching the dockyard pass by. "I hope you managed to keep the boys in line, Zach." Joker anticipated. The dark haired man with a stoic expression smirked and nodded.

"Of course, boss."

"And uh...the profits?" He questioned, leaning forward again and placing both hands on Zach's shoulders. The dreadful weight of Joker's hands on Zach's shoulders bothered him only to the extent of having physical contact with the man. Their history went back further than both of them would like to admit, and neither of them would speak of the shit they had been through easily.

"Profits are all intact, J," Zach replied, almost moving to brush Joker's hands off of him before Joker removed them himself and sat back again. "Should we pick up some pizza? Are you hungry?" Zach wondered, glancing into the side view mirror as if the glass would grant him a visual on his boss' opinion at night with the windows rolled up.

"Gionino's," He replied. "Italian sausage, green olives and mushrooms." He ordered even though Zach knew his toppings by heart. Hell, Gionino's knew Zach well with how often they ordered from them. As they drove Joker's mind passed over the doctor that had essentially helped him escape, sucking on his scars he watched the buildings pass by and wondered what kind of neighborhood she would live in. After all...after what she did Joker felt like she deserved a visit. She was so peculiar...treating him with awe and understanding...the perfect balance of it actually. Even with how gentle and caring she seemed he still managed to keep his shields up and show her exactly what she wanted to see. He hadn't agreed to therapy to get better because he wasn't sick, he agreed to it to get out. He, of all people, knew that there was no such thing as getting better. There was only escape. Whether through state approved escape by appearing to be well, or otherwise.

Parked in the small parking lot of the pizzeria, Joker watched as the bright lights of the establishment made it possible to view everything inside. Like television. He watched as a lively conversation played out between two employees and his best guy Zach. Smiled to himself at an unheard joke they all were laughing at. Almost completely unaware of the rising tension in the SUV. Keith, the driver, was a new guy and was terrified of the Joker. Being conned into working for the guy he never expected that his initiation task would be transporting Joker from his breakout in Arkham. And now they were casually sitting in a parking lot on a crowded street with the notorious terrorist while they waited for pizza to be done!? His leg was bouncing in nervous agitation as he chewed on his bottom lip and compulsively checked the rearview mirror. And the time. Jonny's side of the vehicle's back seat was lit up with the blue artificial light of his cell phone as he casually browsed the internet and it all seemed like too much. Suddenly Keith let out a worried whimper. And that caught Joker's attention.

"What's the matter with you?" He snapped, leaning forward and bringing his head between the seats. His dark green eyes studied the unfamiliar face as he sucked his teeth. "Yeah...new guy, huh?" there was a short non-humored chuckle before he scooted himself to the edge of the backseat. "What are you worrying about, uh..."

"Keith," The man knew well enough to give his name.

"Keith, you don't have anything to worry about. Okay?" He assured, his voice pitching just a little bit higher than before. "Batman is miles away...at Arkham..." Joker knew that was a lie. By now the Bat was probably flying through the streets searching for him with some new sort of device. "The big bad Bat ain't gonna getcha while you're with me..." He assured. "Not tonight, anyway. Not. Tonight." He repeated, hitting the t's with hard conviction before sitting back. "So relax..." He hummed, looking out to the car that had just pulled up.

The hideout on Apollo avenue and Market street was a small brick warehouse that used to be a powerhouse before electric technology advanced. It was four stories tall with big blocks of windows that had been sprayed with hazy white paint to prevent anybody from looking in and seeing what went on inside of it. Along one side in the back were two smokestacks, one shorter than the other, and the other side of the building had a series of stairs. A few of the doors had been bricked up years ago before Joker took over the abandoned building. On the side where the stairs were there was a metal chain link fence that marked out the property of the neighboring business, a failing scrapyard. With their schedules running on flipsides the scrapyard never noticed the business going on beside them. And Joker liked it that way. In this area nobody noticed semi trucks coming and going as scarcely as his did and would be again. The warehouse was chilly inside as the building had no insulation against the cold November weather, but as they moved in further from the doors there was a warmer sheet of air they passed through. Several space heaters fueled by kerosene had been set up around the place and the main floor was occupied by several folding metal tables with metal bins of various materials and manufacturing pieces. Zach had found something for the men to do while the boss was in Arkham, and with curiosity, Joker stepped up to one of the men as he worked the repetitive job.

"Light manufacturing," Zach answered before Joker could say anything. "Piece rate but it gives them some money to spend." He added, walking by with three boxes of pizza. After watching the random worker do a few pieces Joker laid down some and pressed in pieces until he had a stack and put it in the completed bin before heading towards the office Zach had set up in the small area that had double doors to his own office that doubled as a living space.

"What would I do without you?" Joker scoffed, sitting down on the only other chair in the filing cabinet stuffed room and took the box of pizza that was his.

"Rot in Arkham...get the death penalty?" Zach laughed, kicking the door closed and handing Joker a foam plate.

"Oh, ha-ha..." Joker said unenthusiastically as he put some pizza on his plate and closed the box back up. "Operation blend-in, huh?" He teased, a reference to one of their exploits earlier in life. He had to hand it to Zach, it was very clever. Now, even with Joker back from Arkham and their less than innocent operations bound to happen, nobody would question anything. The little business Zach had set up was like that rug over the trapdoor. While the main floor worked on light manufacturing, the upper floors could work on bomb manufacturing and execution of strategies. Joker had barely gotten through his second piece of pizza before he brushed the crumbs from his hands and vanished through the double doors into his office. It was dusty in there, and the air was frigid. They had all listened to his request to not go into his office, and for that he was glad. "Zach, bring me a heater." He called, looking over his space. Against the back wall was a work desk covered in blueprints and papers and pencils. Tacked up on the wall were maps and newspaper clippings and some cut out comic strips from the newspaper. To the left of the room was a twin sized bed on a metal spring frame, a brown wool blanket lay atop it in a disheveled manner and a pillow rested in a very custom looking manner. The dip where Joker lay his head still held in the structure of the pillow. And one very abused obviously well loved medium sized teddy bear sat haphazardly in the corner of the bed, its black eyes staring hollow across the room. On the other side of the space was a small kitchenette, complete with a big chill fridge, small stove, sink, and cabinets. The fridge still hummed quietly to itself. Joker knew that it was empty, save for a few containers of chemicals for photo development. He hardly kept food in there. The small counter space held a coffee pot, dusty and stained with old coffee. It would be good to have decent coffee again, that was for sure.

"Here you go, boss." Zach interrupted, standing at the doors with one of the heaters and a can of kerosene. Once it was set up Joker went back to making sure all of his things were in order and untouched. It wasn't until he was sure of this that he sat down at the desk and moved around some of the blueprints. None of these papers mattered anymore, he needed new blueprints and new information on new people and new companies for his next operation. Crumpling them up one by one he put them into the metal trash can in his office and sprinkled some kerosene on the papers before dropping a match into the bin. His next operation was to figure out who helped Batman get all of his expensive gadgets. There were a few candidates on his list...all founding families of Gotham. There were the Elliots...the Kanes, the Dumas...the Crowns...and most of all Wayne. While the five families seemed content to just live their rich spoiled life and not worry about the wellbeing of the scum of the city...and that in itself irked Joker, he would eventually target each of these families anyway for the soul purpose of taking them down a peg, but for now...for now, he had to get a hook in the Batman. Billionaire Bruce Wayne had certainly been involved a lot with his last operation. Whether on purpose or by disguised accident. As he thought back and forth between the motives of each family Joker paced his office and muttered under his breath. Fidgeting his fingers against his thumbs as he did so. The information he had on hand about each family was handicapped at best, limited to the news coverage and articles he had read the years before his first operation's execution. News clippings of the various families peppered the corkboard above his desk, but they didn't illustrate enough for him to go on. What the newspapers covered was social dribble and was likely heavily filtered by the families for the sake of their honor.

"Do we still have somebody in city records?" Joker's sudden presence behind Zach caused the dark haired man to startle and nearly choke on his drink. After clearing his throat Zach nodded and turned in his seat.

"I'd have to call him," Zach stated, looking at his watch. "But he won't be able to do anything for you until the office opens back up in the morning." He added.

"Call him, tell him I need him to dig up all the dirt he can on the founding families. Everything. Crimes, debt, purchases, medical records." Zach hesitated but then nodded.

"Are we going after high society?" Zach asked, dialing the contact. Joker licked his lips and tongued his scar before he sat down on the chair by his box of pizza and sucked his teeth before nodding.

"Yeah," He growled, "Something like that," He added before finishing his pizza.

Detective Andrews had a feeling that with the Joker roaming free from Arkham that his family was at risk, just like they had been before. The sociopath had gotten him early on before any sort of operation had been executed, and at first all he had been asked to do was look the other way during some bank robberies. But he knew now that nothing was ever simple with Joker. Things started small and escalated quickly. He had gotten the call from Gordon the next morning to make sure that his family got out of Gotham and in safety. The comissioner had even given him a few days off to make sure they got out of the city safely. Andrews was scared but he tried not to show it. For his twelve year old daughter and seven year old son he had to stay strong. His wife knew what they were packing for, but his children remained innocently oblivious. They were bustling back and forth in their three bedroom highrise apartment packing suitcases as their children sat and ate a late breakfast infront of the television. They didn't mind not going to school, the unexpected vacation was cool. As minutes turned into an hour and then stretched uncomfortably into hours Detective Andrews became more anxious and jumpy. Watching the windows and glancing at the door with paranoid obsession he placed suitcase number six by the door.

"Alright, kids, you really need to get dressed now." He pressured, taking the abandoned and half eaten plates of waffles from the coffee table where his kids had left them. Gone cold and soggy he just tossed them into the sink with a clatter. "Up! Now, get dressed!" He pressed, clapping his hands.

"Geez, dad..." his daughter scoffed, rolling her eyes and looking up from the television. "It's not like we're on a time schedule." She sassed, her brother never looking from the screen as an infomercial about some colorful toy set rambled on louder than other commercials.

"Listen to your father, Chelsea," Mrs. Andrews chided, walking by to place the final suitcase by the door. Andrews really didn't understand why his wife felt like they needed that many suitcases, and was positive she didn't realize the gravity of their situation. When it came to packing the van and getting out of Gotham as fast as possible he calculated that they could leave a few suitcases behind if it really came to that.

"God, fine." Chelsea snapped with a sigh before storming off to her bedroom. Andrews looked to his wife with a worried look, only to get an equally understanding look back before she took their son Thomas to get dressed. The twenty minutes that passed by were slow and dreadful as Andrews paced the livingroom, wringing his hands and compulsively checking the time. Practically sweating bullets he grew anxious enough to swear at himself for quitting smoking like he did. Sections of his mind combed over whether or not there would be left over cigarettes hidden anywhere, or even stale cigarette butts. Hell, he'd take a stale cigarette butt right now. And, maybe a neighbor had a cigarette he could buy for some change. Deciding to take his chances at that he grabbed a couple suitcases and went into the hallway. Maybe he could smell which residents smoke cigarettes. He walked down the hallway slowly, smelling for any trace of nicotine smoke as he made his way to the elevator. Much to his disappointment he didn't have any luck as he neared the elevator and pressed the button reluctantly. The hallway seemed too still and quiet, despite it always being that way. Chalking it up to his hypersensitivity in the situation he was faced with he glanced back down the hall at his door and chewed his lip as he waited for the elevator to get to his floor.

Joker and a few of his men pulled up to the highrise apartments and turned the white utility van into the underground parking garage slowly. Keith, the driver, was still just as nervous as ever. He never expected to kidnap a police officer's family but he was in too deep now. His fingerprints were all over the vehicle and other things at the hideout they had just left. Zach was there, too, stoic faced like a soldier as they pulled into a parking spot by the fire escape door and idled as the speakers in the van bumped softly with a slow tempo bass heavy rap song. Joker and two more guys sat in the back of the utility van on narrow benches, the guys in the back with Joker had worked with him last time and so were less intimidated by his war paint. Seconds stretched into minutes as everybody sat still, waiting for the go ahead from Joker. It wasn't until stress wrecked Detective Andrews burst through the door to the underground garage that Joker spoke up.

"Looks like our friend needs a smoke," He laughed, and without any hesitation Zach stepped out of the front passenger seat and walked to the back of the van. Andrews smelled the cigarette as it was lit up. Looking to the source he found a man in casual business attire leaning against the trunk of a gray Honda smoking a cigarette. Dropping the two suitcases by his own family van he called out to Zach.

"Do you think you could spare one of those?" He asked, starting to approach Zach.

"You can have a few, my friend." Zach called, meeting Andrews half way. "You look like you need more than one." He remarked, lighting the cigarette for Andrews once it met his lips.

"Ha, yeah." He breathed in the thick smoke and rolled his eyes with satisfaction before nodding. "Some unexpected stress." He confessed. "Do you live here?" Andrews asked, certain he had never seen the man before but he could be a new resident.

"Uh, yeah...moved in a couple months ago." Zach nodded, rolling with it.

"Alright boys, looks like he took the bait." Joker smirked, sliding the utility van door open quietly and stepping out. "Keep it running, Keith." He added, patting the nervous man on the shoulder before leaving the vehicle with his two assistants. Joker took the stairs two at a time with a bounce, followed closely by men eager to be back in action next to Joker. He was practically singing to himself as he made his way to floor five, out of breath but that didn't matter to the war veteran. He had initiative. It was a thing of beauty to see the group of three waiting for the elevator with suitcases, and even more beautiful was the look of fear on the mothers face that clashed with the look of awe on the childrens. It was the look on the childrens faces that caused Joker to pause. Tilting his head at an impossible angle in his murderous slouch he bared his teeth in the best smile he could manage and waved to the trio. Just as he did that the two men behind him seemed to appear out of nowhere, like a magic act, and bolted for the children. For a breif moment the silence of the hallway was broken by quickly muffled screams as all three were grabbed and silenced with rags quickly stuffed into their mouths before duct tape covered their mouths. "Oh shshshshush..." Joker cooed, struggling to get a balance with Detective Andrews' wife over his shoulder. A few doors down the hallway back to the stairs Joker growled angrily and slammed her against the wall, all in one motion a spring loaded pocket knife was against her throat. Mrs. Andrews didn't want to die, and tears that had already begun to well up dripped down her cheek as she whimpered against the rag and tried to shrink away from the knife. She made a quick decision to be good so her children wouldn't be left alone with this creep. "Going to be good?" Joker asked, dipping his head and raising a brow as he absently licked one of his scars at the corner of his lips. Receiving a nod from the woman he gave her the best stiff smile he could before picking her back up over his shoulder and joining his assistants on the stairs. The echoing stomp of their feet fell in a musical cadence as they made their way back to the garage just as Detective Andrews headed inside the building and walked to the elevator.

He felt much better with the nicotine numbing his anxiety and almost laughed at himself at how badly he had been freaking out. Surely the Joker wouldn't target him twice...it was almost funny that he was moving his family from the city for pure speculation. As the elevator neared the fifth floor he almost started to regret smoking, knowing that his wife would smell the smoke and be upset. That was, until he saw suitcases waiting at the elevator. Cold dread flooded his body and breathing seized for a minute. Throwing his hand out to prevent the elevator from closing again he decided that it was impossible for them to have been abducted in the short eight minutes he had been gone. They had to be in the apartment, bringing the last couple of suitcases to the elevator. The hallway never seemed this long before. And when he was greeted by a very empty and very silent apartment police instinct kicked in and he bolted for the fire escape door. Nearly tripping a couple times as he pounded down the stairs he burst through to a silent garage. He almost missed the calling card tucked in the rear wiper blade to his van. Not touching it he took out one of the cigarettes that man had given him and shakily lit it with the lighter the man had also generously given him. Only just now noticing the "j" roughly etched into the green lighter. How could he have been so stupid, he chastised himself, glaring at the Joker playing card.


	2. Chapter 2

Harleen didn't sleep well the night before and was glad that today was her day off. Instead of spending all day with patients in Arkham she could watch the news to see what her favorite patient was up to. Cozy in flannel pajama pants and a warm sweater Harleen snuggled down into her couch with a cup of coffee and turned on the news. She was curious to see if the chaos would start immedietly or if it would start slow like a novice trying to start a fire. Though Joker was hardly a novice, and that she had figured out well enough. While his records were scrubbed clean as if he had never existed prior to his chaos in Gotham she did pick up on the little things that hinted at his past. He had service under his belt, she could tell he was a veteran of war with the way he had spoken about certain things and his opinions. Especially when he cut off topics and redirected them when she got him too close to talking about what ever he was keeping secret. And what other kind of organization could wipe somebody's records clean like they never existed?

Much to Harleen's disappointment, there wasn't even a small news spot on his escape from Arkham. She didn't like to acknowledge the fact that it bothered her, but deep down it really did. The man she had just helped escape certainly deserved news coverage, but maybe it was better this way for him. The secrecy and lack of coverage could certainly give him a hand up in his stratagizing. Operating on the down low. She was certain, though, that the Batman knew he was out of Arkham. Batman was like the oxidant to Joker's fuel, the two causing an exothermic reaction that would eventually burn through the city without any remorse. She couldn't wait. Three cups of coffee in Harleen took one of her throw blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders before climbing out of her window and onto the fire escape balcony that was hers. Gazing off into the skyline of Gotham's neighborhood districts she wondered how close Joker was to her. Daydreaming that he was just down the road she sipped her coffee and watched as a white utility van marked Thimble Cleaners rolled down the street and turned into the parking lot of the dry cleaners she lived by. Maybe Joker was in a similar van somewhere in the city, executing his own plans with soldier-like efficiency.

It wasn't until around noon that Harley left her apartment and headed to the gym to meet her friend Andrea. While Andrea droned on about her life and what was going on with her family all Harleen could think about was the Joker. Wondering what sort of things he would be doing on a cold gray November day after being broken out of Arkham. The psychiatrist part of her worried about him not having access to the medications they were giving him, but another part of her worried if he was eating. The dietitian in Arkham had taken note that Jay wasn't eating well in the facility and she wondered if that habit would transfer to being on the street. And, where would a guy like Joker sleep? Did he even have a place to stay? She was shaken from her thoughts by her friend smacking her arm a few times.

"Geez, Harl'...zone out much?" Andrea scoffed. "I know that guys ass is great but it's rude to stare." She assumed with a laugh and shake of her head.

"Huh? Wha-I wasn't looking at his ass." She defended, "I was thinking about a patient." She admitted, pressing the buttons on the treadmill until it slowed to a lurching stop.

"You know you really shouldn't bring your work to your workout." Andrea opinionated before drinking from her water bottle.

"Yeah, I know. He's just...I worry about him." She confessed.

"Well don't worry too much. He's just a number." She scoffed, wiping her forehead with a white gym towel before tossing it into the bin. "The things you say about people make me wonder how you are a nurse manager." Harley snapped, slamming the towel down hard into the bin with a whipping motion before heading for the locker she had just said made Harleen mad enough to just walk away from her. Joker was hardly just a number, she fumed to herself.

"Damn, Harl' you got the hots for this guy?" Andrea teased, following. "I didn't mean it like that." She defended.

"Well, how else would something like that supposed to be taken?" Harleen snapped, scowling at her friend. "Let's drop it. You want to get lunch at Malcolm's Deli?"

"Didn't we just exercise?" Andrea laughed as she pulled on her street clothes.

"So? What's life without a little guilty pleasure?" Or a lot, she thought to herself with a smirk as she pulled on her pants.

Riding in Andrea's car to the restaurant she couldn't help but watch the rooftops for the caped crusader, even though she knew he never made a day time appearance. Joker worked day and night at what he did, what made the Dark Knight think that he could take time off, she wondered. Then shook the thought from her mind. The vigilante taking time off meant that Joker could be a few steps ahead of him, and for Harleen so long as Jay was ahead of the hero she didn't care what Batman did with his day time hours. When they were near done eating thunder rolled through the chilly sky and rain began to pelt down on the city, frigid like ice and heavy like coins. Glad that Andrea was a good enough friend to drive her home instead of making her walk to the subway Harleen put her left over sandwich in her fridge before she noticed something on her fridge that wasn't there before. Clipped in a magnet-backed clothes pin was a single joker playing card with an address on it. 941 Apollo Avenue. Her heart leaped and raced, hammering in her chest like an out of control train as she grabbed the card and held it in shaking hands. There were other signs he had been in her apartment, a second coffee mug in her sink tainted with red lipstick that wasn't hers, and orange peels in the trash. Not only had he been in the apartment, but he had _waited_ for her. There was no avoiding the blush that settled in her cheeks as she smiled like a little kid. So he _did_ have a place to stay.

Joker got back minutes before the rain started, letting the heavy factory door slam behind him as he threw his hands down to his sides and shook them in agitation. He had spent longer than he had to spare waiting for his doctor to get back from where ever she had gone, and just to get a prescription for something to ease the withdrawal of the cocktail they had been pumping into him. He really didn't want to deal with going cold turkey on another drug, and while he worried about leaving the address with her he knew it was for the best. The warehouse was alive with at least twelve men working on the repetitive light assembly, business as usual. He hadn't gathered enough intel to begin executing any other sort of operation in the building, so raking a hand through his wavy moss green hair he passed by the folding metal tables and headed into the overseer office.

For now, he would just let the anticipation build for Detective Andrews a few good days before he showed up again to ask for his loyalty. Upstairs on the third level was where he had the three hostages kept, guarded by three senior accomplices he trusted well enough to not fuck this all up. They sat around a card table by the only exit playing a false game of poker with chips from a texas hold 'em set while the hostages were allowed to be out of their bindings. Joker had politely explained to them that they wouldn't be hurt if they cooperated and were good and that unless they gave him a reason that they didn't need to be tied up. So far it was working well, considering the last time they were here they had left with bruises on their wrists and ankles from struggling and the mom had a black eye. The boy even dared to walk up to the surly thugs and watch them play.

"Thomas, get away from them." Mrs. Andrews called, inching towards her boy with her arms out like a cautious rescuer. But one of the men put an arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him closer, muttering the concept of poker to him. "Please..." the boy's mother whispered, "...let him go." She was cautious as her eyes pleaded with the other men at the table.

"The boy wants to learn how to play," One thug informed her,

"Don't ya, kid?" Another spoke up. Much to Mrs. Andrews' horror, Thomas looked to her and nodded.

"Creep," Chelsea scoffed at her brother from one of the many windows she was looking out from. The silence was loud after that, only occasionally filled with the loud clattering of metal pieces being dumped into large industrial bins and the beeping of a pallet loader from two floors below. There wasn't even a clock for her to watch, but she knew it was getting close to dinner time.

"My kids are going to get hungry." She stated in a cautious tone, standing feet away from the men despite their hold on her son.

"I'm hungry," Thomas spoke up as if suddenly reminded about food by his mother's remark. The men exchanged glances before one looked to his watch and with a grunted sigh picked up a walkie-talkie.

"Boss, the family is getting hungry." Joker looked to the walkie-talkie sitting on Zach's desk and sucked on his teeth before rolling closer and picking it up.

"Pizza sound okay?" He asked with his gravel voice. There was a longer than usual pause. "Hey! What's going on up there?" He growled sternly.

"Uh, sorry, boss. Kids got excited." The man laughed, "Got a pen and paper?"

"Uh-yeah," Joker replied as if that question was a stupid waste of breath. Taking down the order he stood up and tracked Zach down from the manufacturing floor where he was writing down weights onto a clipboard. "The family wants pizza." He stated, holding a piece of paper out to Zach and extending his other hand for the clipboard. "I'll take care of this." He assured, and after a brief lesson on what to do Zach left Joker to weigh the large bins.

When Harleen arrived at the address she was almost shocked to find an operating manufacturing facility, with men on break smoking cigarettes out front. They all looked curious and equally taken aback as she did when she walked up.

"This ain't a place of consumer business, lady." One of the guys spoke up, which prompted her to pull the calling card from her pocket. "But uh...we are hiring." He added, sliding over to open the door for her. "Boss!" The man barked, making Harleen jolt with a start.

"What!?" Came Joker's short tempered reply from behind twelve-foot tall towers of bins.

"There's a lady here to see you!" He called, only walking a few feet in with his cigarette before leaving the building again. A few men were still inside, smoking as they worked. Joker paused long enough behind the tower of completed pieces to check his watch and scribble the last weight on the clipboard before showing up through two towers.

"Doctor," He greeted with a sly smile.

"Already got yourself a job, huh?" She joked, fidgeting with her hair like a nervous school girl who got acknowledged by her crush.

"They missed me," He shot back, half turning. "Come to my office." He insisted, walking her to the overseer office and closing the doors to his office before she could see in. She wasn't allowed to see anything else besides this false front. "I need my medicine." He wasted no time. "Not to keep taking it, but to slowly get off of it." He elaborated, sitting down and motioning for her to do the same.

"I don't have my script book with me." She admitted, her heart sinking at his straight to business, professional attitude at her visit. Sad that this was the purpose of her visit.

"Well, when can you get me some?" He continued, raising his brows and licking his lips nervously.

"Monday night." She nodded after some thought. "I don't work again until Monday." She elaborated, looking around at the paperwork on the desks. It was all just innocent manufacturing dribble.

"Well, I'll have withdrawals by then." Joker objected, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and sucking on one of the scars on the inside his cheeks, not even sure anymore that inviting her here was a good idea. "What would be the point, then?" He growled with a scoff and stood to excuse her.

"Withdrawals can last a full month," She stated, "A few days of symptoms is a lot better than thirty." She informed him, adjusting her glasses and shrugging her coat off of her shoulders. "Boy, it sure is hot in here." She laughed, not having expected a factory to be this warm in the early winter months. Until she saw the kerosene heater under one of the desks.

"You have to go." He insisted, grabbing her arm and making her stand. "Come back Monday when you have my drugs." He said shortly, walking her to the door and lighting up a smoke before heading back to his office where he sat down on his bed. "Stupid bitch, useless." He muttered, tugging at his hair a little before hitting his skull with the heel of his palm. He was half tempted to change hideouts until he remembered that Zach had set up a false front and that had been all that Dr. Quinzel had seen. Not to mention the fact that he wouldn't be here now if she hadn't helped him escape.

For a long moment, Harleen stood among the smoking employees feeling rejected and dumbstruck. There was a brief moment where she wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself now that her visit had been so abruptly halted and she had been so suddenly excused. It was getting dark now and part of her regretted how long she had taken to get ready just for him in order to be dismissed like she was. And then there was the rain to take into account. Earlier it had let up but now it was back again, and everybody outside of the building was huddled against it under the eave to prevent getting drenched, including Harleen.

"Bad interview?" One of the guys laughed, showing signs of getting a little chilled in the damp November cold.

"He told me to come back on Monday," She informed the group, pulling out her phone to call for a cab.

"Oh, Monday. Got a lot to do on Monday," Another spoke up, throwing their spent cigarette into the bouncing jewels of rain.

"He'll really need you, then." A third interjected with a scoffed laugh. Harleen was tempted to ask but didn't want to risk Joker loosing one of his men due to his temper flaring up about sensitive information being shared with an outsider. Which was what she still was. "Oh, hey. No." The man stopped her as soon as he realized she was calling a cab. "We can have somebody take you home." He offered, "Free of charge." He added, knowing that the boss didn't like taxi services coming around his hideouts. "I'll get somebody." Harleen hesitated for a moment, but then put her phone away. She wasn't going to ask why it took three guys to take her home, maybe Joker wanted to keep her safe so he could get his medicine. But as the atmosphere inside the SUV became less innocent and more predatory Harleen reached into her bag and held onto her pepper spray. Slapping an exploratory hand away from her leg and presenting the can of spray with wide frightened eyes.

"Woah, lady. Calm down, you'll get your money." The man assured with a stupid grin.

"What are you talking about?" Harleen was confused, then it hit her when he advanced again, they thought she was a sex worker. "Ew! No! I'm a doctor." She interjected, fumbling for the door handle to open it but it was locked.

"Dr. Feelgood," The man in the back with her joked, only to get sprayed in the face with the pepper spray. Instantly Harleen regretted the decision, now everybody in the vehicle was choking and sniffling on the nerve spray. "Bitch!" The man growled, massive hands going for her neck. Choking and sniffling from the spray Harleen tried to duck away from the hands as best as she could, her face burning from the close proximity and splashback from the spray.

"Jay won't appreciate you doing this," She warned, fumbling with the locks again, desperate to escape from the stuffy spray tainted air inside the SUV. Much to her disbelief the locks moved and everybody evacuated the vehicle, coughing and sputtering in the freezing rain. "Thanks for the ride, assholes." She shouted, looking at the street sighs before pulling her coat closer to her neck and walking off in the general direction of her apartment. By the time she got home her face burned numb from the cold of the rain, but for the most part the effects of the pepper spray had been washed away. Dripping wet she trailed a trail of frigid rain water to the elevator and left a dark wet spot inside of it where she stood sniffling and wiping her face. A hot shower never felt so good, and it was equally amazing to get into clean, dry, fluffy clothes after she dried off. How she could have thought that men desperate enough to work with Joker would have treated a woman with respect was beside her, but she decided after then that mace was not a good defense mechanism and made a note to look at pocket knives tomorrow.

Just as Zach got back with the pizza their man in city records showed up with file boxes full of dirt on the families. While Zach passed the pizza off to have a worker run it upstairs Joker vanished into his office after moving the file boxes from Zach's false front office into his own office. The fluorescent lights buzzed and crackled as they flickered on in mild protest as Joker pulled out files and spread them around the room in categories that only made sense to him. Scattered piles on the floor with manila folders and copies of crime records essentially represented four of the five families. But Joker couldn't find a box labeled Wayne. Muttering he double checked some files and rechecked the labels on the boxes before roaring and kicking the nearest pile, sending papers soaring with fat fluttering noises.

"Where is it!?" He roared, bursting through his office doors and glaring at Zach before sweeping the floor of his office.

"Where's what?" Zach asked after swallowing the pizza he was chewing.

"Was there a file box labeled 'Wayne' out here?" He asked through a forced calm, his posture hostile as he licked his lips.

"Nnoo..." Zach answered slowly, giving Joker a sideways look. "Did he not bring all the family records?"

"No. He did not." Joker growled with agitation, clenching his jaw and hesitating before disappearing back inside his office. Deciding that, for now, he would have to work with what he had even though the lack of the Wayne family files shot Bruce Wayne sky high on Joker's suspect list.


End file.
